It’s not that there weren’t doctors or other university educated professionals in the family, but they were mostly on my mother’s side. In fact my great-great grandfather, John Harkness, was one of the first physicians in the part of Upper Canada which would later become Eastern Ontario, having settled near Iroquois along the St. Lawrence River. So there must have been medical genes floating around in my blood somewhere. Many of his sons and grand sons became MD’s or PhD’s and my grandmother Ada Murphy (nee Harkness) was a teacher. But most of these relatives lived far away from the Alberta prairies and were primarily figments of my grandmother’s conversations about the family she had left in the east. She had been a teacher in Ontario but then, seeking adventure, headed out West where she met my grandfather, Alphonsus Wilmot Murphy and they eventually settled in Medicine Hat. My mother’s sister, Jean Murphy also taught school for a time in Buffalo Alberta which is led to my mother meeting my father.
It seemed to be infrequent that students from the ‘Hat attended university, but there were the usual crops of university graduates, mostly teachers and nurses.
Since the age of four, I hadn’t thought much about any career other than being a pilot (or a musician) – I had constructed numerous model airplanes and read extensively about aviation and aviators and you would find me in an airplane any time there was a chance to get off the ground. I couldn’t afford flying lessons, so was determined to join the RCAF and become a pilot. However, when I graduated from Medicine Hat High School I tried to join the air force and was informed that a university degree, particularly in engineering, was a requirement.
Unable to find a job, I accepted a position as an apprentice in a medical laboratory. It is amazing how life takes its twists and turns and sometimes leads you into something totally unexpected - this temporary difficulty in finding employment turned my life into something totally different from that for which I had planned or expected to do. Apparently, I did a pretty good job in the clinic because the staff offered me a scholarship to the University of Alberta where I would earn a Bachelor of Science in Medical Laboratory Technology, something that I felt was not otherwise affordable even though I had saved money from summer jobs, playing dances, militia and teaching music.
I was very honoured and excited about the prospect of going to varsity and went to see one of the science teachers at MHHS who was a fellow musician and friend. Bob Ayling advised me that, since I had the potential, I should shoot for the top and go after an MD.
So, not knowing whether or not the future would consist of smooth or stormy seas, I set sail for U of A, 
Realizing that I had only one chance to catch the brass ring, I worked day and night on my studies – to the point that I was failing miserably. Seeking the advice of the varsity counsellor, I was told that I wasn’t applying myself sufficiently. When I told her about my study habits, she then allowed that I was studying too much and recommended a book, “How to Study” which I diligently studied.
Heeding the advice in the book, my marks soared from failure to honours and I was on my way! I did discover that I was more interested in biological sciences than physics and therefore changed my major to biology and chemistry. I had always been keen on palaeontology and developed an interest in herpetology, the study of reptiles, as I harboured an interest in the study of rattlesnakes. My professor, who was a herpetologist himself, advised me that I should find a more lucrative career and pursue my interest in medicine. He sealed the deal by telling me that it would be advantageous to learn as much as possible about one animal (humans) and that knowledge would help if a career or hobby in either palaeontology or herpetology still caught my fancy later on.
One of the things that helped me with my studies was that Pat and I were married, a situation that motivated me to succeed and alleviated the distraction of loneliness, whereupon I was able to concentrate on my studies and maintain good marks. I therefore became eligible to apply for entrance to the U of A Medical School in Edmonton, Alberta.
One of the hurdles was that I had to be interviewed by the Dean of Medicine, Dr. Walter McKenzie an event that worried me considerably. Dr. McKenzie was a pioneer of surgery in Alberta and I was trembling in my boots as I entered the interview room. It turned out that he was a jazz drummer and we discussed big band music at great length , especially when he found out that I was the founder and leader of the U of A big band. When he asked why I wanted to become a doctor, I informed him that it was because I was deeply interested in medicine. Having been a lab technician sealed the deal.
During the summer, a letter from the University arrived and, after staring at it for a while, I gathered enough courage to open the envelope. You can’t imagine the excitement and relief, tempered with trepidation, of reading “you have been accepted into the University of Alberta, Edmonton, Medical Program.”
So now it was time to pack our old car with whatever belongings we had and, with Pat and little Laura, head to Edmonton where we would be residing in a low rental development while commencing medical training.
We were then herded to the cadaver lab where we were presented with our boxes of bones, including a skull, and were assigned to our cadavers, which we would be dissecting for the entire year. Several of the potential medical doctors quit on the spot! The attendant for the cadavers was a short, rather stout Polish man with sparse reddish hair and one wandering eye (strabismus) who looked the part of a body snatcher (at least the movie versions). This may have had some influence on those who decided that they didn’t have the stomach for the ensuing medical studies.
My three cadaver mates included Mark Rosenbloom, somewhat older than me, who possessed a Master’s Degree in Chemical Engineering from England. Whoa!, I thought, what chance do I have against such exalted scholars, as there were also others who held more senior qualifications than me. Mark and our families became lifelong friends until his death several years ago.
First year medicine consisted mostly of the basic sciences such as anatomy, histology, neuroanatomy, physiology, embryology, biochemistry, anthropology, genetics and other pertinent subjects. Classes ran from 0730 to 1700 roughly and from 0730 to noon on Saturdays. The workload was extremely heavy and most of us found that the pre-med Arts and Science did not fully prepare us for the intensity of work. I set up a study corner in the basement – a wooden door formed the working surface of a desk ant a bookcase was constructed from bricks and boards, the ubiquitous style of the day. I spent many long hours cramming information into my tired old noggin, stopping in the dreary hours after midnight having allowed only a brief respite before supper and a short break during the evening.
In order to supplement our income, Pat would often babysit on the weekend evenings and I would join her with my microscope and a box of slides. She would hand me a slide and I would be required to identify the type of tissue and whatever pathology might be evident – this is why I earned honours in Pathology, I suppose.
Many years later I rode my Harley-Davidson out to a motorcycle rally in Kananaskis, Alberta. A member of the press queried me regarding the motivation for being a “biker.” I responded by stating that “it is to help make up for all the Saturday nights when most of my friends were out in their sports cars or partying.” I think the reporter may have understood.
One of the key courses for any budding physician was anatomy. There was always a lecture at 0730 followed by three hours of lab time, every day except Saturday, spent hovering over our cadavers, dissecting and trying to identify structures that were beautifully represented in the atlas of anatomy but were never so discernable in the formaldehyde soaked bodies. Our cadaver was a rather large, formerly derelict man, who was missing most of his teeth. We spent many months with our new friend dissecting various areas of the body, starting with the upper limb, lower limb, thorax, abdomen and perineum and, the most complex, the head and neck. There would be weekly exams and practical tests and also surprise exams that could be sprung upon us at any time. My secret was to always be up to date and ready for a test at any time. That way, I didn’t have to pull all-nighters when it was time for the big exams and at least I was better rested than some of my contemporaries.
Lo and behold, I placed sixth in the class of 96 at the end of first year.
Summer employment was an issue as the medical classes ended later and began earlier in the year than for other faculties and employers wanted students for longer periods. I was fortunate enough to get a job in research for the summer and was a co-author of a journal article titled “Electronarcosis of the Dog.”
Financially, varsity was a bit of a struggle, but we had help from our parents and student loans until joining the RCAF after second year medicine. Until then, I thought that money was made of copper!
Second year medical studies were slanted more towards the clinical sciences. Courses included Pathology, Pharmacology, Bacteriology and Virology, Surgical Anatomy, Surgery, Obstetrics and Gynaecology and a myriad of other clinical subjects. A significant number of hours was also spent studying Psychiatry. We also received some of our basic medical instruments such as a stethoscope, ophthalmoscope and sphygmomanometer (blood pressure cuff). One night, after several hours of study, I picked up my stethoscope and listened to my heart. To my horror, I detected a rather obvious systolic ejection murmur and I was almost afraid to fall asleep lest I wouldn’t wake up. The next morning, I approached my cardiology professor for advice. He asked me how many cups of coffee I consumed on a daily basis. I informed him that it was only 10 to 15 cups. He laughed and told me to cut back on the java, and guess what? - the murmur disappeared! A good lesson about excesses!
Another event of note was that, from the bacteriology lab, I contracted Shigella dysentery, a most dramatic condition, to say the least, that kept me away from classes for a few days although I learned a lot about diarrhea! That wasn’t as serious an event as one of the students who developed tuberculosis and missed an entire year.
One of the roughest times in my life was the death of my mother just before exams. I took a week off class and my classmates took notes for me to review later. Needless to say, I was very down and distraught but had to pull myself together and face my studies with as much diligence as one could muster under the circumstances. I passed, however, still near the top of my class.
After second year, at the suggestion of my uncle, Oliver Skjenna, an officer in the air force reserve, I joined the RCAF. We now felt rich as tuition and book costs were covered by the military and I received about $150 per month in wages. It meant that those of us in the Undergraduate Medical Training Plan (UMSP) were required to attend weekly parades, but it also meant that we didn’t have to concern ourselves about summer employment and, to top it off, we would get a whole month of vacation in the summer! The first summer was spent at boot camp in CFB Borden where we not only learned about military discipline and medicine, but how to live with very little sleep. Later in the course, we were required to set up a field hospital in the bush. As soon as it was complete, we had to tear it down and move to another location. This was repeated day after day and night after night until we were like zombies, the kind of stamina building that would come in handy in the future.
Third year was more into clinical medicine and we spent many hours in various hospital wards as well as in classes. By this time, my brother Graham came to live with us and we moved into officer’s housing in CFB Griesbach, an army base on the northern outskirts of Edmonton.
The following summer I was posted to CFB Cold Lake aka the “Cool Pool,” an RCAF training base for supersonic CF 104 Starfighters, capable of delivering a nuke. That was very exciting and I actually got several hours in this high speed and high altitude jet as well as other aircraft. I actually went up to Mach 1.8 in the Starfighter which was one of great thrills of my life. Pat, Laura and Graham camped with me at a lake near the base and we had a great summer.
Fourth year medicine was primarily clinical and we all spent many, many hours in various clinics and days and nights in hospitals learning, hands on, the intricacies of our chosen profession. The end of the year was very, very stressful because success or failure depended on a couple of weeks of written exams and around 25 oral and practical exams. There was one classmate who, because of the alphabet, was in front of me for the orals. He would enter the room and after a minute or so would rush out and vomit and then return to complete the testing. Man, did that ever wreak havoc with my nerves! However, I knew the material very well and confidence grew by the day.
One horrific exam was the surgery oral as one of the examiners was an old surgeon from Magill University. He asked me how to treat a bubonocele, and I had no idea what the heck that was. He chided me relentlessly until my professor finally interjected and noted that bubonocele was an archaic term for a femoral hernia – and then I was able to then answer the question, albeit being somewhat unnerved! That’s when I realized that many surgeons possess a natural method of birth control – their personalities!
One exam was quite memorable - the Urology oral, conducted by our Honorary Class President, Dr. Bill Lakey, one of our favourite professors, and another surgeon. Minutes before the exam I had opened my urology text and the chapter happened to be about prostatic cancer which I quickly reviewed. Somehow, I managed to steer the questioning around to the subject of prostate cancer and I aced the exam!
Now, finally, after all those years, we were finished, and after receiving our results (I still stood in the top quarter) we went through various formal ceremonies, dinners and ethanol laced parties and were, at long last, convocated with our MD’s. What a glorious occasion that was as members of Pat’s and my families attended the formalities and I was now Doctor Skjenna, the first in our Skjenna family line.
From the beginning when I decided to pursue this dream, the end seemed to be far, far distant in the uncertain vapours of time, but the destination was worth the journey and I could now relax for a couple of weeks before I undertook the next step which was internship. The future would hold new and often unforeseen hardships as well as many victories and great satisfaction.
You go on. You set one foot in front of the other, and if a thin voice cries out, somewhere behind you, you pretend not to hear, and keep going.
Geraldine Brooks
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It's great to have you back as a writer. It's interesting to learn how medical studying was done in Canada. I'll guess it's not done the same way to day?
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